Clammed Up by Barbara Ross Read Free Book Online Page A

picked up and told me they’d just returned from another interview with the state police. They’d meet me in the hotel dining room for coffee.
    Michaela and Tony had stayed overnight in the honeymoon suite at the Bellevue Inn, a rambling wooden structure on the other side of the harbor from the hotels and B&Bs where their guests were staying. I’m sure the isolation had seemed like a great idea when they made their reservation, though I wondered how they were feeling about it now.
    The breakfast crowd had almost cleared out of the dining room by the time I got to the Bellevue. I spotted Michaela and Tony in a quiet corner and rushed toward Michaela to give her a hug. She stood and returned it. Even more than I had with Chris, I felt like she and I were comrades who’d been to war together, and talking about money seemed even more uncomfortable. But once I’d sat down and poured a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table, Tony leveled his gaze at me and said, “You’re here about the bill.”
    I knew they were paying for the wedding themselves, and I’m not sure why, but I had the impression Tony was the source of most of the funds. I nodded, indicating I was, indeed, there to talk about the money.
    “How much are you out of pocket over and above our original deposit?” Tony asked.
    “The lobsters are alive, stored under our dock,” I said. “If the police give us permission to open tomorrow, I can use them. And I can resell the liquor. But the rest of the food, the flowers, and the fuel for one roundtrip on the Jacquie II . . . ”
    I gave a figure and, to his credit, Tony didn’t flinch. Across the table, Michaela remained silent, though she did sigh softly when I mentioned the flowers. I was sure she was thinking about her hopes for a beautiful day and all she’d lost.
    “And the labor cost?” Tony prompted.
    That was the part of the conversation I dreaded. People were the biggest expense of running the clambake. True, most of the employees hadn’t actually worked. But they’d lost the day and most couldn’t afford to lose the wages. I gave Tony the amount.
    “And the gratuity?”
    A service charge would have been added to the bill to be pooled and split by the employees. But that was the problem. There had been no service. I hesitated.
    “Just tell me how much.” Tony sat, pencil poised over the paper napkin he’d been taking notes on. “I want to pay it all. There’s no reason for your employees to suffer because of what happened.”
    I named another figure. Tony wrote it down. As he added up the numbers, I studied him and Michaela. If long-term couples grow to look alike, they had a significant head start. Both were dark-haired and dark-eyed, and each possessed a pair of perfectly arched eyebrows. His were not in the least feminine, and hers were not at all masculine, but both pairs were striking in their shape. Each had a gender-appropriate version of the same long-limbed body, and they moved with the kind of casual grace the rest of us noticed and envied. As I watched them, Tony reached across the table without even looking at Michaela and grabbed her hand as if he always knew by some sort of built-in sonar where every part of her body was in relation to his own.
    I genuinely liked Michaela, but something about Tony caused me to keep my guard up. I was relieved he was willing to pay the employees. It would be much harder to manage the clambake if word got around we’d stiffed people. But he was being too agreeable. Too generous. Why? Did he want to get this sad business over and done? Or did he have some other reason to care whether the citizens of Busman’s Harbor thought well of him?
    “What are you planning for the rest of your day?” I asked.
    “The police said we could leave, so we’re headed to Bath to spend time with Tony’s parents.” Michaela’s dabbed at her eyes with her napkin.
    I looked at Tony. “You’re from Bath?” That was a surprise. Bath was just a twenty-five